


New Beginnings

by PrettyCalypso



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: 3x666 happened, AU, Bipolar Ian, Canon up to the end of season 3, Closeted Mickey, Ian has moved on (or so he thinks), M/M, Mickey's life is miserable, Sexual Content, as well as Mickey's wedding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-22
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-08-23 23:04:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 14,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8346304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrettyCalypso/pseuds/PrettyCalypso
Summary: What if the Gallagher family (and Jimmy) had actually moved to Michigan at the end of season 3?





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Guess who's been re-watching season 3 recently? And episodes 11 and 12 made me think: what if the family had actually moved to Michigan? So this is a story I wrote based on that premise.
> 
> Also, I did NOT abandon Just a Piece of Paper. I still love that fic, and I want to finish it, but I've been struggling with chapter 18 lately, if you want more info, please read [this post](http://ilostmylifeonline.tumblr.com/post/152124659683/me-trying-to-write-right-now).

 

Ian had his plan ready, he was going to knock on the door, hope for Mandy to answer it, and spend one last afternoon with her. He wouldn't talk to Mickey, he wouldn't even walk into the house. Mandy. Just Mandy.

 

If only life was so kind. Mandy did answer the door, and talked about random school stuff Ian didn't care about. And he heard Mickey yell from his room, asking who was at the door. Mandy snapped back at him, and left Ian alone in the hallway, going into her own bedroom looking for nitrous. And Ian prayed she would be back soon, he prayed Mickey wouldn't be curious enough to come wander in the hallway. Maybe he should have gone with Mandy in her room, because too soon – and not soon enough at the same time – Mickey was here, talking casually about his new work-out routine and inviting Ian in his bedroom. Ian wanted to ignore him. He didn't want to go. But he did, because, really, when had he ever say no to Mickey Milkovich? And he listened to him talking about his wife, about Russians and Nazis, and World War II, and Mickey asked if Ian wanted to “pick up where they left off”.

 

“No thanks.”

 

“Huuum... Hard to get gets me hard, Gallagher.”

 

“I'm leaving town.”

 

 _Army._ It was probably a stupid idea. Probably the dumbest idea Ian had ever have, but it felt right, it felt like this was what he was supposed to do. He needed to leave. He needed to get away from this toxic relationship. He couldn't wait quietly on his ass while Mickey was playing house with a hand-whore. And the army was not the best solution, Ian knew it, but at least it was immediate, and it was the only option he could think of.

 

Mickey didn't even try to stop him. Or maybe he did, but the words got caught in his throat, not going past the “don't”. Ian wasn't sure what he expected. Did he want Mickey to run after him? To tell him he loved him and would leave Svetlana and her baby right away? Maybe. But it didn't matter because Mickey didn't say any of those things. And Ian left. He was tired of playing this game.

 

***

 

The Gallagher house was full of joy, of laughter, and happiness. Lip was smiling despite his hangover, Veronica was showing around a picture of the unborn baby her mother was carrying, Carl and Debbie were fake-fighting with the decoration they found on Lip's graduation cake, and Sheila was serving food to everybody. Suddenly, Fiona tapped her glass with a knife, calling the family's attention. They all went silent, and she exchanged a small smile with Jimmy before she talked.

 

“I have good news!” she exclaimed. “We found the perfect house in Ann Arbor! And it's available next week!”

 

“So we're really moving to Michigan?” Debbie asked, and Fiona smiled wider.

 

“Yes, we are! Cheaper house, cheaper life, better schools, Jimmy studying to become a doctor, and a good job at World Wide Cup waiting for me. What more could we ask for?”

 

The Gallagher kids cheered loudly, V tried to hide her sadness in her husband's arms, and the party went on. Ian sat heavily on the couch, and Fiona dropped herself next to him.

 

“You don't have to come with us.” she told him softly. “Not right away anyway. I know you've been down lately, so if you want to finish the school year here and live at Mandy's you can.”

 

Ian chuckled lightly. Fiona thought he was unhappy because he didn't want to leave. Fiona thought he wanted to stay and _live at Mandy's_. He shook his head.

 

“No, I'll come with you guys.” he whispered with a smile.

 

After all, Ann Arbor would probably be better than the army, right? Safer at least. And still far enough away.

 

* * *

 

 

Mickey hadn't seen or heard of Gallagher for three weeks now. He wasn't sure if he had really gone through with his army plan, or if it had just been a shallow threat, and it was not like Mandy was telling him anything anyway. So Mickey did his best to go on with his life, and he did not count the hours and the days since he had last seen red hair, freckles and green eyes, he did not.

 

Mickey hated his wife, and he wished for a miscarriage every night before he went to bed. He couldn't stand her touching him, and, thankfully, she hadn't try to get physical with him since their wedding night. He lived in a constant state of hangover since that doomed day, never letting his body sober up before filling it with more alcohol. His life was miserable, to say the least.

 

“Got a job for you today.” his father announced as he sat at the breakfast table next to a barely awake Mickey. “Gallagher owes me money.”

 

Mickey tried not to raise his head too fast at the name, and his eyes met with Mandy's for a quick second.

 

“Gallagher?” he repeated, his voice croaked.

 

“Frank.” his father said, talking to Mickey like he was stupid. “Good for nothing Frank fucking Gallagher?”

 

“Yeah.” Mickey nodded, trying not to be disappointed. “How much he owes you?”

 

“Too much.” his father barked.

 

Mickey nodded again. He would take care of it. Of course he would. He always did what his father asked him to do.

 

***

 

He took a deep breath and counted to five in his head. He hadn't wanted to come here. He had tried the Alibi, the homeless shelter, shanty town under the L, Sheila's. Frank was nowhere to be found. The Gallagher house was his last option, and Mickey had really hoped to avoid it. He curled his hand into a fist and brought it near the wood of the door. He took another small breath. He could do this. He was no pussy, he was tough, he didn't care about anything, his heart couldn't be broken. He knocked. In that instant he actually hoped Ian was really gone for the army. He wasn't ready to see him. Not right now, not like that. He heard footsteps, and the door was opened.

 

“Who the fuck are you?”

 

The unknown woman raised her eyebrows at Mickey's rudeness, and crossed her arms.

 

“I could ask you the same thing.”

 

“Are any of the Gallaghers here?” Mickey asked, still a little anxious that the woman might turn around and call Ian to the door. “I'm looking for Frank.”

 

“No.” she answered. “The Gallaghers moved away a couple of weeks ago.”

 

“Moved?” Mickey repeated dumbly. “Where?”

 

“Michigan I think.”

 

If that was even possible, Mickey's heart broke a little bit more. Michigan? _Fuck._ Ian being in the army felt real, but he could still come back, and live right there not far away from Mickey. But Michigan? He was gone, really gone.

 

“Is Frank the old smelly drunk?” the woman added, unaware of Mickey's distress. “He's been squatting in the van in the backyard for a while. Every time we kick him out he comes back.”

 

Mickey nodded vaguely.

 

“Yeah, okay. Thanks.”

 

He waved at the woman and she closed the door.

 

Michigan. _Shit._

 


	2. Two years later

 

“Meds?”

 

Ian rolled his eyes at Fiona.

 

“Yes, Mom.”

 

“Not your mother, just concerned. You have enough refills?”

 

“Yes.” Ian sighed. “I'm just going back to my dorm you know, I'm not leaving to the other side of the world.”

 

Fiona smiled and patted his shoulder.

 

“I know. I just don't like knowing you're all alone up there.”

 

“I'm not alone.” Ian shrugged. “I have Alex. Plus, it's only a fifteen minutes drive. I survived my first three semesters there, I think I can make it a fourth. Why don't you nag Lip for a change?”

 

“Oh please!” Lip shouted from his seat on the couch, hoping he had been forgotten. “She won't ever let me go back!”

 

“He leaves for fucking Massachusetts at the beginning of every semester and you never say anything to him!” Ian pointed out with a fake pout.

 

“That's because I'm glad to get rid of his ass.” Fiona smirked, pouring orange juice into the plastic cups she had laid out on the table.

 

Lip raised his middle finger in her direction, as Carl climbed down the stairs loudly before sitting at the table.

 

“You're still here?” he asked his older brother while pouring too much syrup on his pancakes.

 

“Oh thanks Carl.” Lip shot back. “That makes me feel wanted.”

 

Ian laughed as he sipped his coffee.

 

“Talking about leaving.” Fiona chipped in. “What do you guys think of Airbnb?”

 

“Like for a trip?” Lip asked.

 

“No.” Fiona shook her head. “It's just that since Jimmy left, and with you two in college, I could use the extra money, so I thought about renting your rooms on Airbnb while you're away.”

 

“No, no way.” Ian shook his head, barely raising it from his mug. “I don't want some stranger sleeping in my bed.”

 

“Same.” Lip added.

 

“Come on guys.” Fiona almost whined. “You're never here. You” she pointed at Ian. “you only come back like one weekend a month, or when you have too much laundry to clean. And you” she pointed at Lip. “we only see you for the holidays.”

 

“I'll pick up extra shifts at the coffee place and I'll give you the money.” Ian promised. “But don't rent my bedroom to some weirdo over the Internet.”

 

“Can _I_ take your room?” Carl asked, taking advantage of the conversation. “I'm sick of sharing with Liam.”

 

“Nope.” the redhead answered.

 

“You can crash in mine if you want.” Lip suggested.

 

“You sleep on a futon in the attic in the middle of all of old crap.” Carl pointed out. “Ian has a big comfy bed...”

 

“Yeah, and I'm coming back often enough to enjoy it, so stay away.” the redhead warned.

 

“What if I wanna bring a girl home?” Carl added. “I can't do it with Liam in the room.”

 

“Oh, well in that case...” Ian started, his voice soft and gentle like a comprehensive big brother. “I'll put a fucking lock on my door. No way you're bringing a girl in there. You're not having sex on my bed.”

 

“You do!”

 

“Yeah, cause it's _my_ bed.”

 

“Okay guys!” Fiona broke it off. “Lip, Ian, you better hurry or you're gonna be late. And Carl, since you're up so early you're gonna take the Christmas tree down.”

 

“But, it's my last day before school starts again!” Carl protested.

 

“Exactly. You need to do it now, or the tree will still be up next Christmas.”

 

“Hey.” Carl's face lit up. “Why don't we do that? Keep the tree up all year long, it'll make things easier.”

 

Fiona rolled her eyes.

 

“No. Tree. Down. Today.”

 

***

 

Ian's eyes were focused on the road ahead of him, trying his best not to loose control of the car and slip on a patch of ice. He fully intended to bring Lip safely to the airport, and his own will to live was still strong enough to be careful by this weather.

 

“Fuck winter.” he muttered under his breath.

 

“Yep.” Lip agreed, lighting a cigarette.

 

“Why didn't we move to fucking California?”

 

“We wouldn't have been able to survive under the heat.”

 

Ian nodded, his eyes still fixed on the road.

 

“Is Boston any better?”

 

“It's literally on the same latitude. You take a map, trace a straight line, and you're right there. So same fucking weather.”

 

Ian's phone rang on the backseat and the redhead waved at his brother without looking at him.

 

“Can you see who's calling?”

 

Lip contorted his body to grab the buzzing phone.

 

“Alex.” he read the name flashing on the screen.

 

“Pick up.” Ian asked. “Put it on speaker.”

 

Lip executed the orders and soon Alex's voice was resonating through the car.

 

“Hey babe!” he greeted happily.

 

“Yo.” Ian replied, trying not to loose his focus as he searched for his exit on the highway.

 

“When you get here?” Alex asked.

 

“Dropping Lip off at the airport, and I'm on my way.”

 

“Alright. I'll get myself ready for you, stretching slow and...”

 

“I'm right here.” Lip interrupted. “You're on speaker.”

 

“Oh, sorry.” Alex quickly muttered, and Ian could almost hear his boyfriend blush through the phone. “I... um... See you soon. Have a good flight Lip.”

 

And like that the call was disconnected.

 

“He's so vanilla.” Lip laughed.

 

“He's nice.” Ian replied with a smile.

 

“Yeah, but aren't you bored sometimes with him?”

 

“No. He just doesn't show off, but he's more fun than he looks.”

 

“Yeah, I can see that.” Lip mocked.

 

“At least I'm able to hold a serious relationship, and I'm not waking up every morning with another stranger next to me on the bed.”

 

“Hey, I'm living the life man!”

 

“And how's that working out for you?”

 

“I'm not complaining.” Lip smirked, and Ian shook his head.

 

***

 

Ian had only been back to college for a few days, but he was already back into familiar habits. His life was all about routine. He went to class, studied his ass off for tests, spent a regulated amount of time writing essays. He went to the gym every few days, improved his work-out routine. He worked at an on-campus coffee shop several days a week. He took his meds, he didn't drink, tried to sleep enough every night. He went on a date with Alex at least once a week, and sometimes went out with friends. Routine was keeping him afloat. And he enjoyed his life.

 

Alex deepened the kiss, his tongue playing purposefully with Ian's. Lip could say whatever he wanted about Alex, Ian liked him. He was a nice guy, he was kind, and funny, he was a great kisser, and the sex was good. The redhead ran his hand in his boyfriend's hair, moaning lowly. His phone suddenly ringing made them both jump. Ian grabbed the device from his desk, checking the name flashing on the screen, and he froze. Four letters, and a name he hadn't heard or pronounce in over two years. _Mick._ He only hesitated for a second before putting his finger on the big red ignore button.

 

“Who was that?” Alex asked, curious.

 

“Nobody.” Ian shrugged, leaning back for another kiss.

 

But Alex pulled away.

 

“Nobody?” he repeated with a raised eyebrow. “When a guy says that, it usually means it's an ex, or a secret lover. So which one is it?”

 

Ian rolled his eyes. Stupid future lawyer.

 

“Ex.” he sighed.

 

“Is he calling often?” Alex wondered, and Ian kept himself from rolling his eyes again.

 

“It's the first time I hear from him in over two years.” he simply said.

 

“And you're not curious as to why he's calling you?” Alex insisted.

 

“Not really, no.”

 

Alex nodded, finally satisfied, and Ian went back to kissing him. Only for his phone to ring again. This time with Fiona's name flashing across the screen. Ian detached himself from his boyfriend once more and grabbed his phone back.

 

“That's my sister.” he explained. “And _that_ I answer.” he smiled. “Hello?”

 

“Hi, sweet face.” Fiona greeted cheerfully, and Ian immediately knew she had something to ask him. “So I know you and Lip said no to me renting your rooms to strangers, but what if I rented it to somebody you know?”

 

Ian sighed. When Fiona was set on an idea... He thought about it for a few seconds. He wasn't sure he could think of somebody he knew who would want – _need_ – to rent a room in their house.

 

“Who do you want to rent it to?” he asked.

 

“Mickey Milkovich.” Fiona answered. “Remember him?”

 


	3. Three weeks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mickey has sex with a random guy in the very beginning of this chapter. Skip it if you don't want to read that.

 

Mickey had his forehead pressed against the wall in an alley behind some bar he had visited way too many times for the past few months. The guy behind him was breathing like a steam engine as he pumped into him hard and fast. Mickey didn't know his name, or if he too had a wife at home, but he didn't give a shit, that wasn't why he was there. He needed to get off, and using his hand only was getting old. The guy came too fast, barely leaving Mickey enough time to reach his own orgasm. And when Mickey turned around, buttoning up his pants, the guy tried to fucking kiss him. Yeah, like that was going to happen.

 

“That was fun.” the guy said with a smile. “We should do it again some time.”

 

Mickey nodded. Not a chance in hell. But whatever, his itch was scratched. For now.

 

***

 

“You're late.” Svetlana greeted him as he walked through the door. “And you smell like sex and other man's perfume.”

 

“That makes two of us.” Mickey replied wittily.

 

His wife ignored the comment and grabbed her purse on the coffee table.

 

“You watch Yevgeny tonight, yes? I have date with a client.”

 

“You go on dates with the men you screw for a living now?” Mickey asked with his eyebrows raised high.

 

“Like you care.” Svetlana answered.

 

Mickey shrugged. True, he didn't give a shit about what his wife did.

 

“You feed Yev dinner.” she repeated. “And you put him to bed.”

 

“Yes, I got it!” Mickey snapped. “Go on your fucking date!”

 

“You're lucky your father is in jail.”

 

“And you're lucky you're not living on the fucking street!”

 

The door slammed shut behind her, and Mickey sighed loudly, running a hand over his face. One day, he would stab her in her sleep. Or stab himself, it'd make things easier.

 

“Dada!”

 

Mickey turned to look at a toddler wearing only a diaper running toward him on his short legs.

 

“Yeah kiddo.” he sighed again, picking him up in his arms. “Let's get some food in you.”

 

He sat Yevgeny down on his high chair near the kitchen table and opened a plastic box full of one of Svetlana's weird Russian dishes, dropping it in front of the kid. The house was quiet, with Mandy living in her own place, his father in prison again, and his brothers doing god-knows-what god-knows-where. Mickey sat on a chair facing his son and lit a cigarette, blowing the smoke away from the child.

 

“Guess it's just you and me tonight, buddy.”

 

Yevgeny smiled, eating with his hands and making a mess of his food. Mickey picked a fork and tasted some of it. Fucking disgusting Russian shit. The kid seemed to enjoy it though. Good for him.

 

***

 

The kid was finally asleep, and Mickey was just starting to doze off in his bed, when the door of his bedroom was violently opened and he was blinded awake from the light of the hallway.

 

“The fuck?” he exclaimed, sitting up and rubbing his hands over his eyes.

 

“I have job for you.” Svetlana said.

 

“Like... now?”

 

“No. Next week. Construction job in Michigan. Three weeks. My client hires you.”

 

Mickey let the words sink in his brain. What the fuck was she talking about?

 

“And why should I take it? The Rub' N Tug makes good money, and there's only the three of us now.”

 

“I want Yevgeny to go to American college one day.” his wife explained like he was stupid. “So you'll take job.”

 

Mickey sighed.

 

“Okay.”

 

He let his head drop back on his pillow, when a thought occurred to him.

 

“And you couldn't wait until morning to tell me that?” he asked as Svetlana was about to close the door.

 

“No.” she shrugged before leaving to go sleep into her own room.

 

_Bitch._

 

***

 

“So you're really gonna take this job?” Mandy asked as she sipped her beer slowly.

 

“Yeah.” Mickey nodded, looking down at his own drink.

 

The siblings usually met once a week – or, rather, Mandy came barging into the Alibi every Friday night to wear her brother's ears off with stories about her life – and Mickey had just told his sister about the construction job Svetlana was forcing him to take in Michigan for three fucking weeks.

 

“So, you're really gonna go to Michigan?” Mandy repeated.

 

“Yeah.” Mickey nodded again, exasperated. “Why not?”

 

Mandy rolled her eyes, and looked around to be sure nobody could overhear their conversation.

 

“I mean, I know we never talk about it but...”

 

“Yeah, we don't talk about it.” Mickey interrupted, knowing where his sister was getting at. “So let's keep not talking about it.”

 

“But, Mick...”

 

“Look Mandy. Michigan is a big state okay. It doesn't mean anything.”

 

“What's in Michigan?” Kev suddenly asked, having obviously heard parts of their conversation.

 

Mickey sent a pointed look at his sister before answering.

 

“Svetlana found me a job in Ypsilanti or some shit, so I'll be gone for a few weeks.” he explained.

 

“Ypsilanti.” Kev repeated, tasting the word on his tongue. “Why does this name ring a bell? V?”

 

“It's the town you got lost in last summer when we visited Fiona in Ann Arbor.”

 

“Oh yeah, right.” Kev nodded, revisiting the memory. “Hey, if you need a place to crash, Fiona has a couple of spare rooms when Lip and Ian are in college.”

 

Mickey saw his sister raise his eyebrows in his peripheral vision. They never talked about Ian – or the Gallaghers in general – but Mickey knew that Mandy had slightly lost touch with the redhead – they only sent each other a few texts here and there – and that Kev and V were visiting the family regularly. Yet, he had never wanted to know where they lived exactly, or what Ian was up to. He was relieved though to learn that he was in college. The kid was smart, and Mickey had always known he had a bright future ahead of him – in opposition with Mickey's own fucked up life.

 

“That's okay.” he shook his head. “I'll find a motel or something.”

 

“No, really.” Kev insisted. “I don't think Fiona would mind. Wasn't she telling us yesterday that she wanted to rent the rooms? Right, V?”

 

Veronica nodded, and before Mickey could do anything he saw Kevin take his phone out of his pocket and a few seconds later the barman was already on the phone with Fiona.

 

“What are you doing?” Mandy whispered angrily at her brother.

 

“I'm not doing anything.” Mickey replied, raising his hands helplessly.

 

“You're not gonna go, are you?”

 

“I don't know...”

 

“Fiona is okay with it.” Kev announced happily, putting his phone back in his pocket. “You just have to call her back to discuss a price and tell her when you're coming.”

 

Mickey nodded, dumbfounded, under the annoyed gaze of his sister. So apparently he was going to live with the Gallaghers for three weeks. What the fuck had just happened?

 


	4. The bed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, but feelings! Also, this story will be short, I'm only planning 8 to 10 chapters, not more.
> 
> On another note, I just watched 7x04 and I have a big problem: I LOVE Trevor! I mean I used to like Caleb, but I knew it would never last and I was okay with that. Here, I'm actually considering a Mickey/Ian/Trevor thrupple, I would totally be on board with that, that's how big my problem is!

 

“What do you mean you're renting my room to Mickey Milkovich?”

 

Ian had sat up straighter on his small twin bed and he felt Alex's eyes on him from where he was sitting next to him.

 

“Kev called me to tell me Mickey was going to be in town for a few weeks and needed a roof.” Fiona explained. “So I thought it was a good idea.”

 

“Since when do you want to have a Milkovich living under our roof? You wanted nothing more than to kick Mandy out on the curb when Lip was dating her, and this is Mickey we're talking about. You barely approved the idea of me working with him!”

 

“It was a long time ago, Ian. People change, and he's coming here for a legal job. He was a wife now, and a kid. He works at the Alibi with Kev and V, and apparently they can vouch for him.”

 

Ian sighed loudly and ran a hand over his face. The only thing he had picked up from Fiona's little speech was that Mickey was still married, and a fucking father now. He shook his head, mostly at himself.

 

“Are you at least gonna make good money out of this?” he asked.

 

“You won't have to pick up extra shifts at the coffee shop while he's here.” Fiona promised, and that was probably the best news for Ian in all this.

 

“Okay.” he finally conceded. “Just clean my stuff a little bit, and put the things I might need in Lip's room.”

 

“Of course.” Fiona replied, and Ian could hear her smile. “I'm a good hostess you know.”

 

The redhead hung up. He could feel his boyfriend's eyes still fixed on him.

 

“Everything okay?”

 

“Yeah. Just... family stuff.”

 

***

 

Fiona didn't know Mickey Milkovich that well. He was _the dirtiest white boy in America_ , Mandy's brother, and Terry's son. He was rude and scary, and he probably always lived-up to the message his knuckles tattoo conveyed. He was in some of Lip's classes in high school back in Chicago, and they were more or less friends, right? Acquaintances at least. He had worked with Ian at the Kash' N Grab, and Frank always owed him more or less money. He was also a good business partner according to Kev, and he was a decent enough guy to marry the poor girl he had knocked up and to stay around to take care of the kid. So, all and all, Fiona trusted him to be a good tenant. Or at least she thought she could have found way worse.

 

“So that's the room.” she explained, opening the door to reveal a decent sized space with a comfortable double bed, a nice closet, and another door leading to the 'boys bathroom'. “You have a view of the backyard from the window. It's not big but at least it's a little green, and we have some flowers in the spring. You can use the kitchen, downstairs, you can watch TV, and we have a decent enough Internet connection.”

 

Mickey nodded, silently taking it all in.

 

“Ian is away at college.” Fiona continued. “And he probably won't come back while you're here. But if he does, he'll sleep in Lip's room. Or I'll just tell him to stay at his boyfriend's for once.”

 

Fiona was about to keep talking when she realized what she had just said. She froze. Had she just outed her brother to a Milkovich? She wasn't used to being so careful with the information anymore. And she knew Mandy knew, but she wasn't sure what the clearance level was with the rest of the Milkovich family.

 

“Um...” she tried to correct. “I mean his friend. His roommate.”

 

“It's okay.” Mickey just shrugged, saying his first actual words other than 'hello' and 'thank you'. “I already knew.”

 

“Oh. Okay.”

 

For a son of crazy Nazi fag-bashing Terry Milkovich, he didn't seem too upset by the idea of Ian being gay and sleeping in his bedroom. Maybe Mandy had spilled the beans. Or maybe Ian and him had been closer than she imagined, and the redhead had already told him. She didn't really care as long as Mickey still payed rent and didn't start beating her little brother to death.

 

“Well make yourself comfortable.” she smiled. “I'm gonna go make dinner. If you want to eat with us, I'll make some extra Mac & Cheese.”

 

***

 

Mickey had dinner with the Gallaghers, staying quiet while Debbie spoke non-stop about some girls she was friends with, and some guy she had a crush on. Carl seemed impressed to be sharing a meal with Mickey Milkovich and kept asking him what type of guns he was packing – questions to which Mickey wouldn't have dared to answer, especially after Fiona sent him the darkest glare imaginable. Liam was a cute little dude, and the fact that he didn't say more than a couple of words made Mickey like him even more. And Fiona, well Fiona was actually pretty nice, even though kinda scary in a motherly way – Mickey did _not_ want to fuck with her.

 

Mickey then climbed back upstairs, going to bed early before he had to wake up at the crack of fucking dawn for his first day at work. Sleeping in Ian's bed. He wasn't sure it was a dream come true, or his worst nightmare. The sheets were clean and smelled like cheap laundry detergent, but also like something more, something familiar, and Mickey was ashamed to say he buried his nose deep into the pillow, inhaling what he could of Ian's sent. And when tears started rolling down his cheeks, he didn't stop them. He cried himself to sleep, but he also had the best night he had had in years, and he woke up more rested than he expected.

 


	5. Friday

 

Mickey spent his first week in Michigan working on a construction site under the coldest weather, hating his wife for making him do this, and trying to stop his brain for thinking non-stop about Ian Gallagher. Fiona had warned him, there was very little chance he would see the redhead during the three weeks living at their place, but he couldn't help himself from hoping. He wasn't sure what he expected, Ian apparently had a boyfriend, he had moved on, doing great things with his life, and he had ignored the one and only time Mickey had tried to call him just a few days ago. He had wanted to warn him, tell him he would be moving into his house, and maybe apologize and say that the idea wasn't his, but Ian hadn't even given him the opportunity to do that. Still, Mickey was hoping he would see him, hoping something would happen. And he hated himself. He hated himself for still being hooked on the stupid redhead. He hated himself for waiting around for him like a little bitch. Why couldn't he fucking move on and get on with his life?

 

***

 

“Why can't I come with you again?” Alex asked for the hundredth time as Ian was packing his bag.

 

A three-days holiday weekend for which Ian would have usually stayed on campus, but not this time. He wanted to come home even though Fiona had suggested he'd stay with Alex considering his room was rented. He wanted to come home, and his heart did a weird little twitch every time he thought about the idea of seeing Mickey there.

 

“Fiona's rented out some bedrooms, the house is packed.” he shrugged, hating himself for giving the lamest excuse to his boyfriend as to why he didn't want him there.

 

Truth be told, he wasn't sure why he didn't want Alex to come with him. It was not like he was planning to cheat on him or anything, he just didn't like the idea of sleeping with Alex when Mickey was just in the next room. He knew how that sounded, but he didn't want to even try to explain it.

 

“I'll make myself really small.” Alex tried again.

 

Ian smiled and shook his head.

 

“I'll see you tomorrow at The Hound.” he promised before dropping a quick kiss on his boyfriend's lips.

 

***

 

Mickey was so fucking tired. Five days straight of hard work from sunset to sundown, and he still had one more day to go before his weekend could start. Fuck Svetlana and her stupid ideas. He had thought about going home and tell her to go fuck herself, or to take the job herself if she wanted the money so bad, but he wasn't looking forward to see her again. He was actually quite enjoying his time away from home, like a little vacation that killed his back.

 

He rubbed his eyes, and climbed up the stairs slowly, wanting nothing more than to take a long hot shower. He opened 'his' bedroom door and jumped in surprise. A fucking giant redhead was sitting cross-legged on his bed, silently reading the book opened on his lap. He raised his head when Mickey slammed the door shut and smiled.

 

“Hi.”

 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Mickey greeted in response.

 

“Just reading.” Ian smiled.

 

“Didn't Fiona tell you?”

 

“Yeah, she put all of my stuff in Lip's room and told me to stop coming into this room like it's still mine.”

 

“So what are you doing here?” Mickey repeated.

 

“I just wanted to say hi.”

 

“Okay, you said hi already, you can go now.”

 

Ian looked at Mickey for a beat, with his fucking green eyes that seemed to be searching for all the answers of the universe in Mickey's face. The brunet shifted his weight from one foot to another, and bit his lower lip. He hated when Ian looked at him like that.

 

“What?” he barked.

 

“Are you mad at me or something?” the redhead asked, sounded genuinely concerned.

 

Mickey didn't answer right away. No, he wasn't mad. He had been mad for some time, hating Ian for giving up on him and abandoning him. But not anymore. Now he was just... He didn't know what he was, he just knew he wasn't mad.

 

“What you're reading?” he asked instead.

 

“Anatomy textbook.” Ian answered, closing the volume to show its cover to Mickey. “It's for class. I'm majoring in Health & Fitness, to become a personal coach, or a health and fitness educator. I can even apply to some medical jobs afterward, like maybe become a paramedic or something. And I'm minoring in Gender & Society, which are fancy words to say I study gay people and how they – _we –_ are treated in society, and more specifically in medical cases.”

 

Mickey nodded, taking all the information in. Ian seemed to enjoy what he was doing and liked to talk about it. He remembered another time when he was the same with ROTC and West Point.

 

“What about the army?”

 

The redhead shrugged, and Mickey thought he saw a sad smile pass across his face.

 

“Stuff happened. It's not really in the picture anymore. But that's okay, I like what I do now.”

 

“That's good.” Mickey smiled.

 

Ian nodded, and an uncomfortable silence settled between them. Mickey wanted to kick Ian out of the room, but he also wanted him to stay. He wanted to kiss him, and touch him, and tell him he had missed him.

 

“I'm gonna go.” the redhead sighed, standing up from the bed and grabbing his book. “See you later.”

 

He exited the room, and Mickey released a long, unsteady breath when he heard the door close behind him.

 

***

 

Mickey hadn't come down for dinner, and Ian was almost disappointed about it. He settled on the couch next to Fiona, his phone in hands, answering absentmindedly to Alex texting him.

 

“What movie are we watching?” Carl asked as he settled on the armchair.

 

“Not something with too many explosions please.” Fiona replied.

 

“I promised Liam we would watch Guardians of the Galaxy.” Carl suggested.

 

“Works for me.” Fiona nodded. “Ian?”

 

“Sure.” the redhead answered, keeping his eyes on his phone screen, not quite sure what he was agreeing to.

 

He heard Carl ruffle with the TV, putting the movie on.

 

“What you're watching?” Mickey's voice suddenly asked, and Ian raised his eyes from his phone.

 

“Guardians of the Galaxy.” Fiona smiled, getting up. “You can join us if you want. Take my seat, I'm gonna go make some popcorn.”

 

Mickey nodded and sat awkwardly in the place Fiona had just left, right next to Ian. The redhead stretched his back, trying to make sure their thighs didn't touch. He pocketed his phone and sent a tight smile in Mickey's direction.

 

“Can I see it?” Carl asked, obviously talking to Mickey.

 

“ _It_?” Ian repeated.

 

“My gun.” Mickey replied, looking at Ian.

 

“You brought a gun with you?”

 

“I always do. And Carl saw me taking it out of my bag the other day.”

 

“Can I touch it?” Carl asked again, and Mickey turned to look at him, detaching his eyes from Ian's.

 

“Sure. Go grab it, it's on the nightstand.”

 

Carl didn't wait to be told twice before he ran upstairs.

 

“The fuck are you doing?” Ian exclaimed, and Mickey turned back to him.

 

“Relax, it's unloaded.” the brunet sighed.

 

Ian nodded. Better be. Keeping a loaded gun in a house with Carl was never a good idea.

 

“Can I play with it too?” the redhead wondered. “It's been a while since I've had one in hand.”

 

“We're still talking about the gun?” Mickey asked in return, his eyebrows raised playfully.

 

Ian rolled his eyes, but he couldn't help the small grin from creeping up on his lips.

 

“Of course we're still talking about the gun.”

 


	6. Saturday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to update earlier, but I have a hand injury so now it takes me about forever to write, sorry.

 

_[From Alex] Is it okay if Darren and Jordan come tonight?_

 

_[From Alex] And maybe Max and his girlfriend?_

 

Ian sighed. It was not like he disliked Alex's friends, but they were all quite boring to be honest. Too neat and well-kept, without any edge. A bunch a future lawyers who enjoyed spending their nights sipping a glass of classy wine and discuss politics. And Ian didn't like how Alex acted around them, how he was going back to the snobby higher-middle class brat he was when they had first met. But Ian also knew he couldn't really keep his boyfriend from seeing his friends, or it would be the beginning of the end of their relationship, so he typed a few words in response.

 

_[From Ian] Sure, no problem._

 

And he locked his phone before he even received Alex's predictable “thanks babe” answer. He dropped the device next to him on Lip's shitty wannabe-bed and closed his eyes. He had been looking forward to a nice Saturday night date with his boyfriend in a low-key bar, but now his night was kind of ruined, and he just knew he was going to be bored out of his mind. He heard the loud sound of an object being dropped to the ground in the next room, followed by a grunted swear, and an idea popped into his mind. He stood up from the futon and walked the few steps separating him from his rented bedroom. The door was cracked opened, and he knocked lightly, opening it wider.

 

“Hey Mick, you're busy?”

 

“What do you want?” Mickey's grumpy voice answered.

 

He was standing near the bed, holding a lamp broken in half.

 

“That's my lamp.” Ian pointed out.

 

“Yeah, I know.” Mickey bit back aggressively. “I'll pay it back, okay?”

 

Ian nodded, he didn't actually give half a shit about his lightning appliances.

 

“You're doing something tonight?” he asked, still set on his idea.

 

“Do I look like I'm doing anything tonight?” Mickey replied, putting the lamp back on the bedside table it came from, and making a vague hand gesture to drag Ian's attention to his dirty sweatpants and sleeveless shirt with holes in it.

 

“Do you want to come to a bar with me?” the redhead suggested, making Mickey's eyebrows raise slightly higher than usual. “Alex will be there.” Ian added, clearing any misunderstanding. “And a bunch of his boring law students friends. I could use the company.”

 

Mickey released the pressure on his eyebrows and shook his head.

 

“So you want me to come with you and _your boyfriend_ to hang out in some hipster bar with his annoying faggy friends?” he repeated sarcastically. “How could I say no to that?”

 

“Come on Mick.” Ian smiled. “I'll buy the beers. And we can play darts or pool while they talk about who's gonna be the next president.”

 

“Why don't you just stay here?”

 

“Cause I promised Alex I'd go.”

 

“And _your boyfriend_ would be okay with me being there?”

 

“I'll tell him Fiona forced me to bring you along.”

 

“Nice.”

 

“Come on, it could be fun.”

 

Mickey rolled his eyes, and Ian knew he had him. Actually, he was pretty sure he had him from the beginning, but he knew Mickey liked to throw a fight at pretty much anything.

 

“You're buying?” the brunet asked, and Ian nodded. “Fuck it, I have nothing better to do anyway.”

 

***

 

“So, which one of those poor suckers is your boyfriend?” Mickey asked as they stepped inside the bar.

 

Ian didn't have the time to answer before Alex was walking toward them with a big smile plastered across his face. He pecked Ian's lips quickly – gesture that made Mickey look away with an exaggerated sigh.

 

“Who's your friend?” Alex wondered, his usual chipper self oblivious to Mickey's annoyance.

 

“This is Mickey.” Ian introduced, placing a hand on the Milkovich shoulder, only to be slapped away immediately. “He's the one renting my room right now. We used to work together back in Chicago.”

 

Mickey snickered at Ian's words, and Alex smiled broader, extending his hand for Mickey to shake. He was promptly ignored but didn't make a case out of it.

 

“Used to work together, huh?” Mickey repeated lowly, only for Ian to hear, as Alex walked back to the table where his friends were waiting.

 

“What, you wanted me to tell him how you liked to take it up the ass on the regular but preferred to marry a woman than to call me your boyfriend?” Ian whispered with a tight smirk. “Because I can say that if you want.”

 

“Fuck you.” Mickey muttered back.

 

“Yeah, that's what I thought.”

 

Mickey avoided Ian's eyes for the next half hour as all of Alex's friends introduced themselves, and the group ordered drinks and some appetizers to share.

 

“So, how much you bet Lisa and Darren are gonna end the night making out?” the redhead joked as he sat next to Mickey.

 

The brunet had been sulking in his corner for too long, and Ian had brought him here for company after all. Mickey just shook his head.

 

“I'm not doing that.”

 

“Okay.” Ian sighed. “So how's your kid doing?”

 

“Ten bucks.” Mickey replied.

 

“What?”

 

“I'm betting ten bucks Lisa's gonna end up with Jordan. And fifteen bucks Darren's gonna suck Max's dick.”

 

“Max's straight.” Ian answered. “He's with Kathy, she's sitting right next to him.”

 

“Fifteen bucks he's not that straight.” Mickey said with a playfully raised eyebrow. “Take it or leave it Gallagher.”

 

“Oh, you're on Milkovich.”

 

***

 

The two of them spent the night talking and joking, in their little bubble, ignoring and being ignored by the others, except for Alex who regularly sent small smiles to his boyfriend and made sure he was okay. Mickey did not hide his discontentment every time Alex interrupted them, but Ian was always quick to reassure him and send him back to his friends.

 

Ian stayed on two beers, he knew Fiona would kill him if he drank more while being on his meds, and he wanted to keep in control. Mickey though drank all the shots Ian dared him to, and swallowed more beer than the redhead could keep count of. He had always known the Milkoviches could handle their booze, but Mickey seemed to have raised his tolerance level during these past two years, because it took him a spectacular amount of alcohol to be drunk enough that Ian had to basically carry him home – and the Gallaghers had grew up with Frank as a reference, needless to say the redhead needed a lot to be impressed.

 

“You're gonna be okay?” he asked as they left the bar, and Mickey nodded too much. “Don't puke in my car.” Ian warned, and Mickey nodded again.

 

“I'm fine.” the brunet stuttered.

 

The redhead helped him settle in the passenger seat and handed him an old paper bag he had found in the backseat, just in case. Ian drove slowly, glancing at Mickey frequently to make sure he was still conscious or not on the edge of throwing up all over his car. Thankfully, Mickey survived the short trip back to the Gallagher house without emptying the content of his stomach, and closing his eyes only for a couple of minutes.

 

“Alright.” Ian sighed as he placed Mickey's arm over his shoulder to help him climb the stairs up to their respective bedrooms. “Try not to trip, or we'll both fall down the stairs.”

 

“I'm fine Gallagher.” Mickey repeated while still being unable to stand up straight.

 

“Yeah, right.” Ian shook his head.

 

He almost carried Mickey to his bedroom and let his body crash heavily on the bed. Ian huffed and puffed and took a step back.

 

“Sleep it off.” he ordered.

 

“Ian!” Mickey called back just as the redhead was about to leave the room.

 

His voice was low, and the redhead realized it was the first time Mickey was calling him by his first name since he arrived in Michigan, and the third time total in the entire time they had known each other.

 

“What's up?” Ian asked gently, walking back toward Mickey.

 

The brunet rose on his unsteady feet to face the redhead completely, but kept his eyes fixed on the floor.

 

“I missed you.” he murmured, and Ian had barely enough time to register the words before he saw deep blue eyes looking at him, and then Mickey's lips were on his.

 

Ian froze for a couple of seconds. Mickey was kissing him. A part of him told him to pull back and break the kiss, but the other, stronger part, told him to reciprocate, and he didn't hesitate before deciding which part would win. He kissed back, enjoying Mickey's soft lips on his. He had missed him too. Mickey gripped the back of Ian's neck, keeping him close, and his lips parted a little, his tongue looking for an entrance into Ian's mouth. And the redhead felt his breath filled with alcohol. And suddenly he thought about Alex. Ian pulled back, pushing Mickey softly away from him, shaking his head.

 

“I can't. I can't do this.”

 

Mickey looked at him with pleading eyes, and Ian took a couple of steps back. He kept shaking his head as he exited the room, and locked himself into Lip's bedroom.

 


	7. Sunday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warning** : quite explicit depiction of Ian having sex with his boyfriend in the 2nd part of this chapter.
> 
> Also, this had been edited very quickly, so feel free to point out any mistake.

 

Mickey woke up to the midday sun pouring through the window, and the worst headache he had had in a while. He groaned into his pillow, hating himself for going to bed without closing the blinds last night, and then he realized he was actually still fully dressed, he hadn't even taken his shoes off. Had he drank himself unconscious again? He searched his memory and remembered going to the bar with Ian last night. He remembered a lot of beer, too many shots, and betting on who would suck whose dick among Ian's douchey friends, but he wasn't quite sure how he had come back home. Probably Ian, the redhead had only had a couple of beers, basically nothing compared what to Mickey had.

 

He heard chatter and noise coming from downstairs, and checked his phone. Yep, 1pm. He had slept all morning. He rolled out of bed with some difficulty and dragged himself to the bathroom to take a quick, lukewarm shower. The water pressure was good in this house. He dressed himself in loose sweatpants and a large T-shirt before slowly climbing down the stairs. The light was too bright, and there was too much sound.

 

“You people always so goddamn noisy in the morning?” he grumbled as he entered the kitchen to a squad of upbeat Gallaghers moving around like busy ants.

 

“It's already the afternoon Mickey.” Fiona answered with a smile. “Coffee?”

 

“Yes please.”

 

He grabbed the mug she was handing him and sat at the table. Debbie was crouched above what looked like difficult homework, and Liam was playing with the rest of his lunch, while Fiona was washing the dishes.

 

“You know what's good for hangovers?” Carl asked, walking in the room with a cardboard box full of light bulbs under his arm. “Weed.”

 

“Yeah.” Mickey nodded. “You have any?”

 

Fiona sent him a reproachful look, and Mickey raised his hands in surrender.

 

“I know a guy.” Carl added, placing his box on the counter next to Fiona. “I could hook you up.”

 

“Carl!” the oldest Gallagher exclaimed. “Stop selling drugs, and go fix the light bulb in the garage.”

 

“But there's like a million bulbs in this box!” Carl complained. “How am I gonna find a good one?”

 

“Don't know don't care Carl. As long as we can see in the garage by night fall.”

 

The young Gallagher emitted a loud exasperated sigh, and grabbed his box again, dragging his feet into the garage.

 

“So, you had fun last night?” Fiona asked Mickey once her brother was out of the way. “Ian told me you went to a bar with Alex and his friends. They're kinda of snobby if you ask me.”

 

Mickey nodded. Yep, a bunch of entitled pricks.

 

“Ian's up already?” he realized, picking up the information from what Fiona had just said.

 

“Yeah, he left about an hour ago.” the woman replied with a smile.

 

“He left?” Mickey repeated.

 

It was a three-day weekend, Ian had still the entire afternoon, plus all Monday without class or work. Why had Ian left already?

 

“He said he needed to study for a test.” Fiona supplied. “And I think he forgot his textbook in his dorm or something. Plus, it's always calmer to study up there.”

 

She didn't seem too worried or surprised, maybe Ian did that often. Mickey didn't like it though, he thought they were okay after last night, but maybe Ian was still mad at him after all.

 

***

 

Ian thrust into Alex harder and faster. His boyfriend had already come, and the redhead was chasing after his own orgasm furiously. He was almost there, he could feel it. He needed to keep focus. His fingers were sinking into the soft skin of Alex's hips, but his mind was escaping, going back to last night and the way Mickey had kissed him and told him he had missed him.

 

“Fuck.” Ian grunted, opening his eyes and looking at his boyfriend's arched back.

 

Alex. He needed to think about Alex and only Alex.

 

“Stop, stop.” Alex suddenly breathed.

 

“What?” Ian asked, obeying to the order without thinking about it.

 

“Get off me.” Alex said gently. “Come on.”

 

Ian did as he was told, and pulled out of his boyfriend. He stayed still, not really sure what to do, seated on his knees, and his dick still hard. Alex turned over, and pushed Ian to sit back on the bed, taking hold of his erection.

 

“You okay?” he wondered as he started stroking Ian's cock.

 

“Yeah.” Ian sort of lied, leaning his head back against the wall and closing his eyes, trying to keep his mind steady on the feeling of his boyfriend giving him a hand job.

 

“You seem distracted.” Alex noted.

 

“Can we not talk?”

 

“Okay.”

 

Alex smiled lightly and slid down, replacing his hand with his mouth.

 

***

 

“So, you got home okay last night?” Alex asked after a minute of silence.

 

Ian was lying on his bed, trying to recover from the fact that he had taken the longest time ever to come, and that only because he had tortured his mind into not thinking about Mickey which, incidentally, made him think about him even more, and he wanted nothing less than to come into his boyfriend's mouth while thinking about another guy.

 

“Yeah, sure.” he mumbled.

 

“Mickey seemed pretty drunk.” Alex continued.

 

“I guess.” Ian nodded.

 

“You guys used to be friends, right?”

 

“Yep.”

 

“And you hadn't seen him since you moved here?”

 

“Nope.”

 

“Did you miss hanging out with him?”

 

Ian sighed and sat up, facing Alex.

 

“What's with all the questions?”

 

“I'm just making conversation.” Alex shrugged. “Thing we didn't really do last night because you spent the entire evening talking and laughing with Mickey.”

 

And here was the passive-aggressive Alex Ian hated. They never had a real fight, a yelling, calling each other names, and eventually throwing a few punches fight, because Alex only knew how to be _passive_ -aggressive, never just aggressive.

 

“Yeah.” Ian sighed. “I spent the entire evening with Mickey because you spent your entire evening with your friends.”

 

Alex nodded slowly.

 

“Sorry.” he said with a small smile. “I know they can be pretty exclusive sometimes.”

 

“That's okay.” Ian replied with a matching grin. “That's why I brought Mickey along, to feel less alone.”

 

Alex nodded again.

 

“Do you miss it sometimes? The Southside and the people there?”

 

“I like it here.” Ian smiled again, knowing full well he hadn't actually answered the question.

 


	8. On the phone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know that feeling when everything goes well for your ships? Well, after last night's episodes of both Shameless and Eyewitness, that's how I feel. I am so happy.

 

Ian had had a long week of writing essays, too many hours working at the coffee shop, and spending even more time trying not to think about Mickey. He suddenly remembered why he had wanted to get away from him. Back in the days, Ian wanted to be with Mickey more than anything else, and, on some level, he still did want that, but he also knew he couldn't be with a guy still in the closet, and he couldn't live a hidden relationship. That feeling was even stronger now that Ian had had real boyfriends who didn't have a problem disclosing their sexuality. Unfortunately, Mickey was not there yet, so Ian just to had to swallow his feelings, and try his best to forget the kiss they had exchanged a few days before, forget the feeling of Mickey's lips on his own, and this fire in his belly when they had touched...

 

His phone buzzed in his pocket, snapping Ian out of his thoughts. He dropped the book he was supposed to be reading, and took his phone out. He had an incoming text from Mickey. He took a deep breath. Mickey had sent him a “sorry” text a couple of days prior, and Ian hadn't bother to answer. This time the message was empty, there was just a picture attached. Ian opened it. It was a photo of the medicine cabinet in the boys' bathroom back in the Gallagher house, Ian's meds in the foreground. The redhead typed an answer quickly.

 

_[From Ian] You're going through my stuff now?_

 

_[From Mickey] I found them in the bathroom. I figured they weren't Carl's or Liam's and I saw you popping pills last WE._

 

_[From Mickey] And you didn't drink._

 

_[From Mickey] I googled what they do. Bipolar disorder. Like your mom right?_

 

_[From Ian] Fuck you._

 

Ian locked his phone and sent it flying through the room. Mickey was a fucking asshole. He had no right to go through his stuff, and just send him a random picture like that with no further explanation. What a jerk. The phone started to ring from where it had landed on the carpet. Ian didn't answer. It rang again. And again. It rang regularly for another ten minutes before Ian finally gave in.

 

“The fuck you want?” he barked after making sure the caller was indeed Mickey.

 

“I'm sorry.” Mickey pleaded. “I don't know why I did that. I just found the pills and I...”

 

“You what?” Ian shouted. “You thought you could just send me a fucking picture out of the blue and tell me what they're for?”

 

“No, I...”

 

Ian heard Mickey take a shaky breath on the other end of the line, and he patiently waited to be given a good enough excuse that wouldn't make him want to break the guy's kneecaps.

 

“I worried about you.” Mickey blurted out.

 

“You worried?” Ian repeated, all anger suddenly washed out from his body. “About me?”

 

“Yeah.” Mickey sighed. “You have a fucking army of pills here, and I know that your mom, you know... I know I could’ve probably brought the topic in a better way, but... yeah, I'm worried about you.”

 

Ian smiled even though he knew Mickey couldn't see him. Mickey worried about him. That was kinda sweet.

 

“You're okay though?” Mickey asked, concern very clear in his voice.

 

“Yeah.” Ian grinned wider. “And you care.”

 

“Of course I fucking care.” Mickey grunted. “What do you think?”

 

“I honestly don't know anymore.”

 

“Well I do care. And I'm sorry. For today, and for, you know, Saturday. I took my sweet time to remember, but now I do, and I shouldn't have... done what I've done. T'wasn't cool.”

 

Ian nodded. Yes, maybe it hadn't been 'cool' on Mickey's part to kiss Ian knowing he had a boyfriend, but the redhead couldn't bring himself to regret it had happened.

 

“It's okay.” he said, realizing Mickey couldn't see him nod his head. “I didn't mind that much...”

 

“You didn't?” Mickey repeated, and Ian could just picture the smirk on his lips.

 

“That doesn't mean you can do it again.”

 

“Oh really?”

 

“Really.”

 

***

 

Ian was starting to get more and more distant, and Alex wasn't stupid, he knew it had started when Mickey had reappeared in the redhead's life. Alex had started to get suspicious when Ian and Mickey had seemed so close that evening at the bar, but he had decided to believe his boyfriend when Ian said they were just friends. Things had clicked though when Ian's phone had rang and the name _'Mick'_ was flashing across the screen. _Mick._ The ex-boyfriend Ian hadn't wanted to answer to a couple weeks ago. Mick was obviously Mickey, there was absolutely no doubt in Alex's mind about that. And he hated seeing Ian's face illuminate when the redhead received a text from _Mick_. Or when he called. Like he just did right now. Alex and Ian were studying quietly in Ian's room, when Ian's phone had started to ring. The redhead had gave his device a quick glance, he had smiled, and had picked up immediately. And now Alex could hear Ian animatedly chatting in the hallway with who he assumed was Mickey. He sighed and went back to the textbook he was reading, trying to block out the fact that his boyfriend was currently having a much better time talking with another guy.

 

“Sorry.” Ian said without meaning it when he came back inside the room about half an hour later, the smile still plastered on his face.

 

“Was it Mickey?” Alex asked, and Ian's eyes grew slightly bigger, like he hadn't expecting Alex to guess who the caller was.

 

“Um... yes.” the redhead thankfully didn't lie. “He was just... um...”

 

“That's okay.” Alex cut. “You don't have to tell me if you don't want to.”

 

“It was nothing special.” Ian insisted. “We just talked.”

 

“I believe you.” Alex forced himself to smile, going back to his textbook.

 

It wasn't a lie. He did believe Ian when the redhead said that Mickey and him just talked – and Ian spent too much time with Alex, or in class, or at work to have time to cheat on him anyway – but he also knew that Ian wasn't looking at him the way he used to. Something had changed, even if Ian hadn't realized it yet.

 

***

 

“Hey babe.” Ian greeted with a smile when he noticed his next costumer was his boyfriend. “A tall latte with soy milk?”

 

“Yeah.” Alex nodded with a matching smile, but Ian knew immediately something was off.

 

“You're okay?”

 

“Yeah.” Alex nodded again.

 

He looked around for a second or two, before his eyes landed on Ian again.

 

“I know you're working and all, but do you have some time to talk?”

 

Ian thought about it for a second. He was an hour and a half away from the end of his shift and he hadn't taken his break yet, so he could easily spare five minutes to listen to his boyfriend. He gestured to Alison that he was taking his break, and he walked to a booth in the quiet corner of the coffee shop, Alex following him. They both sat down, and Alex started to sip slowly on his coffee.

 

“What's up?” Ian asked, getting impatient and a little worried.

 

Alex looked at his drink for longer than normal, before sighing loudly and looking back up at Ian.

 

“I think we should break up.”

 

“What?”

 

“Do you really need me to repeat it?”

 

Ian looked at Alex for a beat. No, he was pretty sure he had understood right.

 

“Why do you...” he stuttered. “Why?”

 

“Because I love you.” Alex simply said. “And you don't love me.”

 

“I... um...”

 

Ian was sure he could – and should – find something better to say than that, but his brain came out empty.

 

“It's okay.” Alex smiled weakly. “You're in love with Mickey, and I don't think I can compete with that. I don't even want to.”

 

Ian stayed still and silent for another minute – or maybe it was just five seconds, or maybe an hour – and Alex stood up, taking his coffee with him.

 

“I hope everything works out for you two.” he said sadly, before exiting the shop, leaving Ian alone at the table.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not gonna lie, the way things ended between Alex and Ian is how I want Trevor and Ian to break up in canon.


	9. Get out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A hundred years later...
> 
> Also warning: there are allusions to Ian's bipolar disorder, and to Monica trying to kill herself during Thanksgiving in this chapter.

 

When they moved to Michigan, Fiona thought everything would be alright, that their life would be great. Of course, Jimmy disappearing for good only a couple of months after they settled in their new house in Ann Arbor put a damper on her enthusiasm. But the eldest Gallagher wasn't admitting defeat that easily, she had a good job, Frank and Monica didn't know where they lived (which, therefore, kept them from crashing back in their kids' life at the worse times), and the family was moving up the social scale, _everything would be alright_. And even when she had to handle Ian's diagnosis alone (while Lip was off to MIT, not going light on the bottle from what she heard), Fiona didn't give up and stayed the feisty older sister who kept her family together and didn't falter. She had had her downs, obviously, but overall she was proud to be able to say she had done a damn good job. When Ian stopped answering her calls and texts for several days though, Fiona started to really worry, and to believe that, maybe, she had missed something important. She knew welcoming Mickey Milkovich into their home would be like welcoming a little piece of Southside back in their life, but the man had apparently changed too – from what Kev and V were saying at least – and she had seen it first hand, but she had also seen her brother become more agitated, and less put together since Mickey had arrived. There was something in Mickey's presence that made Ian uneasy, and Fiona was incapable of pinpointing what exactly was causing this perturbation in Ian's delicate balance.

 

She checked her phone for the tenth time that morning, and sighed again at finding no answer from her little brother. Debbie, Carl and Liam were already gone for school, and she had to go to if she didn't want to be late for work, but she was still considering the idea of calling in sick to drive up to Ian's dorm and make sure he was alright.

 

“No news?” Mickey's voice suddenly asked from behind her, making her jump.

 

She shook her head and put her phone back on the counter. Maybe Ian was just busy, and tired of his sister always checking on him, but a short “I'm fine” text message would have done the trick and she would have left him alone.

 

“I'm driving up there.” Mickey declared, already grabbing his coat from the hanger.

 

Fiona raised her head faster than she thought possible.

 

“What?”

 

“I'm driving to campus to check on Ian.” Mickey explained, determined. “Do you have a map or something? I don't know where his fucking dorm is.”

 

“You don't have to do that.” Fiona smiled gently. “I'll go.”

 

“Don't you have to go to work? It's my day off, I can do it.” Mickey insisted.

 

“But...” Fiona wasn't sure how to say it. “Ian is... not always well.”

 

She didn't want Mickey to find her brother completely manic, or bleeding out on the kitchen floor.

 

“He's bipolar, like your mom, I know.” Mickey stated calmly, taking Fiona by surprise. “And I'll text you as soon as I see him, I'll tell you if you need to come join me or not. Okay?”

 

He seemed so sure of himself, so confident, that Fiona could only trust him and nod.

 

“Okay.”

 

***

 

Mickey hated campuses. He had spent some time in his teenage years selling drugs to drunk students who were ready to pay good money for shitty weed, and he had always hated walking on campus among all those entitled shitheads. But today he had one mission and one mission only: make sure Ian was okay. The redhead hadn't been answering his phone for anyone these past few days, and Mickey would be lying if he said he wasn't scared shitless that something bad had happened to him.

 

He found Ian's dorm easily – thanks to Fiona's indications – and luck was on his side because someone was walking out as soon as he walked in, keeping the door open for him. He knocked on Ian's door a few times and received no answer. There was a chance the redhead was in class, but Mickey wasn't ready to give up that easily. He pounded on the door more violently.

 

“It's Mickey.” he said loudly. “Open the fucking door Ian!”

 

There was some noise in the room, like something shifting around, and then footsteps across the floor, and finally the door opened. Ian looked like he was just getting out of bed, but also like he hadn't eaten or showered in a while, and when Mickey looked behind him, the room was dark but obviously more than messy.

 

“You okay? What's going on?”

 

Ian took the deepest breath, and closed his eyes for a second, running a hand over his face. He seemed tired.

 

“Why are you here Mickey?”

 

Mickey shifted from one foot to the other.

 

“Fiona was worried. You need to call her.”

 

“Why are you here in Michigan?” Ian repeated.

 

“Cause Svetlana found me a job.” Mickey answered.

 

He thought he had already made that pretty clear, but apparently the answer wasn't good enough for Ian. The redhead emitted a weird little laugh, and repeated Svetlana's name under his breath. He closed his eyes again, and when he opened them he seemed more exasperated than tired.

 

“But why in my house, in my room, in my bed?” he asked loudly. “Why didn't you go to a hotel? Or rent an apartment?”

 

Mickey was not sure he understood Ian's sudden line of questioning.

 

“It was Kev's idea.” he answered simply. “He called Fiona and...”

 

Ian abruptly burst out laughing. A mean, angry laugh.

 

“Kev's idea? Seriously Mick? That's what you're gonna go for?” he was yelling now, his face getting red and furious. “Get out! Get out of my house, get out of my room, get out of my life! GET THE FUCK OUT!!!”

 

And with that he closed the door on Mickey's face, slamming it shut so hard that the wood shook on its hinges.

 

***

 

_[From Ian] I'm fine. Alex just broke up with me._

 

The text was easy to type and to send to Fiona. His phone had ran out of battery a couple of days ago and he hadn't bothered charging it, he hadn't realized his sister was so worried. He had spent the past few days in his room, thinking over and over again about what Alex had told him. He hadn't been really surprised by the idea that he might have still been in love with Mickey, the idea had crossed his mind a few times too, but he didn't think he had been so obvious and, more than that, he hadn't planned on acting on it. It had been nice to reconnect with Mickey and to be his friend again, but the man was so deep in the closet, and still married... Ian couldn't do that. He thought about the situation over and over in his mind, and had just made the decision to put and end to their ambiguous little friendship – after changing his mind to “maybe I should give him a chance” at least twenty times – when Mickey had came knocking on his door. Ian wasn't sure why but he had thought this was the best time to test the field, asking Mickey exactly why he had decided to come to Michigan, and if Mickey answered “because of you”, or something close to that, they stood a chance. Unfortunately – for both of them – Mickey kept repeating the obvious, “Svetlana found me a job”, “it was Kev's idea”, and all this bullshit, so Ian lost it. He laughed, he cried, he yelled, probably all of that at the same time, and he told Mickey to get the fuck out of his life.

 

And as soon as he closed the door, Ian collapsed to the floor and sobbed quietly, draining all of the tears from his body.

 

***

 

Mickey stood still outside of Ian's door for a good minute, stunned. What had just happened? The only thing his brain could process was that Ian had told him to get the fuck out of his life, and Mickey felt the sudden urge to obey the redhead. Once he had pulled himself together enough, he texted Fiona to come take care of her brother, and he left campus, going back to the Gallagher house and packing all of his shit. He drove around Ann Arbor for a while, considering going back to Chicago, before deciding to stay long enough to finish the job, and checked in a hotel.

 

“You're a good worker Mickey.” his boss – a slightly overweight blue collar entrepreneur who reminded him of Tommy from the Alibi – told him on his last day on the job. “And my brother-in-law is looking for help in his auto shop in Pleasant Lake, you interested?”

 

“I'm gay.” was Mickey's only answer.

 

He had no idea why he had said it, but it was the first time he had ever said it out loud – and to a stranger on top of that! – and it felt good. So good, like this enormous weight had been lifted off his shoulder. He was fucking gay! And he was not interested at all by the idea of going back home to his _wife_ , and his _father_. He was free. Saying it made him free.

 

“I don't give a shit.” his boss shrugged. “All I care about are good workers, and you're a good worker. So, you interested?”

 


	10. Michael Smith

 

When Ian woke up he wasn't sure if he had slept ten hours, ten days, or ten weeks. Ever since his meds had been adjusted, his sleep was always very deep and uneventful, he fell asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow, and he woke up eight to twelve hours later without any recollection of dreams, or without waking up in between. He turned around in bed, bringing the sheet with him, wrapping himself in it, and burying his face deeper into the mattress. It didn't smell like Mickey anymore. It had at some point, for several days after Mickey left – Ian had been more than glad when Fiona didn't have time to change the sheets after Mickey's departure and before Ian came back home – but the scent was gone now, it only smelled like Ian.

 

He sat up slowly and yawned, stretching the muscles of his arms, his shoulders and his back. Every morning he told himself he wouldn't think about Mickey that day, but every night he realized he hadn't even try to respect that promise. His brain kept telling him it wasn't a good idea to think about the other man, but his heart was too stubborn, and lately Ian preferred listening to his full sized aortic pump. He missed Mickey, he was regretting telling him to go. He had regretted it as soon as he had seen the distraught look on Mickey's face that day on the doorstep of his dorm.

 

He finally left his comfy bed and put on a pair of sweatpants before climbing downstairs. He found Fiona in the kitchen, her head resting on her hands, leaning against the counter and fully engrossed in her phone. Carl and Liam were watching morning cartoons on TV in the living room, and Debbie was probably still in bed. Ian took a carton of milk out of the fridge and poured himself some cereal into a bowl – he didn't have the motivation to cook anything that morning. He sat at the table, facing Fiona, and ate in silence for a moment, before the question he had had on his mind for the past three months finally escaped his mouth.

 

“Did Mickey say anything when he left?”

 

Fiona raised her eyes from her phone, surprised.

 

“Uh... no.” she shook her head. “He went to check on you on campus, then texted me to come get you, and when we came back home he was gone. He just left some cash to cover the rent of the room if he had stayed, and that's it. Why?”

 

Ian shrugged. The memories of this day – and the ones that had followed – were still a little blurry. He remembered yelling at Mickey, then closing his door and crying, and after that Fiona was there to bring him home, he followed her to her car, and he woke up in his bed without being sure how he got there.

 

“I was just wondering.” he answered. “And you didn't try to contact him to ask him why he left so suddenly?”

 

“No.” Fiona admitted, her eyes traveling back to her phone. “You know Mickey's a nice guy and all, but he's still a Milkovich, and he paid what he owed me, so...”

 

Ian nodded. Yeah, Fiona had absolutely no reason to talk to Mickey beyond that.

 

“What about you?” she asked carefully, her eyes back on her brother. “Did you try to contact him?”

 

Fiona was always cautious when she asked Ian questions about Mickey ever since what they referred to 'the break-up incident'. She had absolutely no reason to be, and, as far as Ian knew, she wasn't aware of his and Mickey's history, but she still acted delicately around that subject, like she had a motherly sixth sense that allowed her to suspect that more was going on under the surface.

 

“No.” he lied, going back to his cereal, and effectively ending the conversation.

 

He had actually tried, once, to contact Mickey, about a week after he last saw him, once his brain started to be a little less foggy, but a female electronic voice had announced him that Mickey's number had been disconnected. So Ian took it as a sign that Mickey was obeying his order and getting out of his life, and he didn't try again, as much as it hurt.

 

***

 

He had absolutely no idea what he was doing here. When Ian had gotten in his car that afternoon to go back on campus, he had found himself driving in the opposite direction, and now, about four hours later, he was parking his car in front of the Milkovich house in South side Chicago. He stayed in his seat a little while longer, his hands steady on his knees, and he took a deep breath. He wasn't sure what he was expecting by coming here, but he could do this, he needed to talk to Mickey. He exited his car, and walked up to the front door of the house, taking another deep breath before knocking on the wood. He only waited for a few seconds before the door flew open, revealing an angry-looking Terry in his underwear, a cigarette hanging from his mouth.

 

“What the fuck do you want?”

 

Ian froze for a second. _Shit._ He hadn't thought about this possibility. His mind worked a hundred miles a second, and he finally opened his mouth.

 

“Is Mandy here?”

 

_It was safer to ask for her, right?_

 

“No.” Terry grunted and closed the door in Ian's face.

 

_Okay, so that didn't go well..._ Ian stood still on the porch for a minute, before he decided to take it as a sign, and started to walk away. He was just reaching his car when he heard his name being called. He turned around to see Mandy running toward him. She didn't let him the time to reply that she grabbed his elbow and started walking down the street.

 

“Walk with me.” she demanded. “I don't want him to see us talking.”

 

Ian didn't have to ask to know that 'him' meant Terry. Once they reached the end of the street and turned left, out of sight, Mandy released his arm, turned toward him and smiled.

 

“It's good to see you.” she said, her grin growing bigger.

 

“It's good to see you too Mands.” he replied, giving her a one-arm hug.

 

“So, what brings you into town college boy?” she wondered, detaching herself from the embrace.

 

Ian smiled back. He had missed her.

 

“I'm actually looking for Mickey.” he admitted, his eyes avoiding Mandy's.

 

“Oh.” she sighed, looking disappointed. “I thought... I thought maybe you were actually here for me.”

 

“Sorry.” Ian stuttered out. “I really miss you Mandy, and you know I love you, but, you know...”

 

“You love him more.”

 

“Well... Not in the same way at least.”

 

Mandy found back her smile in front of Ian's slightly blushing cheeks.

 

“I actually thought he was with you.” she confessed lowly. “He left for Michigan, stayed at your place, and never came back. I thought you two were finally living your happily ever after.”

 

“We're not.” Ian shook his head. “I kinda told him to leave me alone about three months ago, so he left and I have no idea where he is.”

 

“Shit.”

 

Mandy looked up at the sky, and Ian looked down at his feet. _Fuck._ _If Mickey wasn't here, where was he? He could be literally anywhere in the world!_

 

“He sends money.” Mandy added, like she had read his mind. “To Svetlana and Yevgeny. He sends it through Kev, but I don't know where it comes from. And I don't want to know, as long as he's safe.”

 

Ian nodded and immediately grabbed his phone, dialing Kev's number. Kev who answered on the second ring and told him the money was sent to the Alibi but that Mickey never gave an address. Ian was about to give up when he heard ruffling on the other end of the line, and suddenly V was on the phone.

 

“I burn the envelops.” she told him. “Mickey asked me to in his first letter, so that his father can't find him. Kev doesn't know and he doesn't ask, you know how he can't keep a secret, he just gives the money to Svetlana by adding it to her Rub'n Tug cut. But I can tell you the post office stamp usually says Jackson, Michigan, and one time it said Pleasant Lake. I'll let you do the rest.”

 

Ian could almost see V's wink through the phone before she ended the call.

 

“Mickey is still in Michigan.” he muttered, mostly for himself, but also partly for Mandy.

 

“That's good.” she nodded. “Go find him then!”

 

“You want to come with me?” Ian found himself asking. “Get out of your father's house?”

 

“I don't need to.” Mandy shook her head, smiling. “I'm already out. I was visiting my adorable nephew today, I just forgot the asshole was out of jail.”

 

“Mickey's kid...” Ian stated, not really asking if he was the nephew she was visiting. “How... how is he?”

 

“He's very cute, and everyday he looks more and more like his dad. I'll send you a picture.”

 

***

 

Pleasant Lake was the smallest town Ian had ever seen. There were only a few houses, twenty at the very best, each separated by three hundred to five hundred feet of land, as well as a post office, a gas station with an auto shop next to it, a small store, a diner, and a church. Ian drove around a few times, having absolutely no idea where Mickey was, before he decided to stop at the diner, it seemed like the kind of place with gossips. He parked his car next to an old red pick-up truck and across from a just as old gray Toyota. And that was it, those were the only two cars in the parking lot in front of the diner. He pushed the door and entered a greasy, cliché restaurant. Three booths with red and black leather seats on one side, and a bar with matching red and black leather stools on the other. There was one patron in the middle booth – a thin man probably in his sixties with wrinkles all over his face and patchy white hair – eating a burger and reading the newspaper, and a second patron – an overweight white man in his thirties with grease stains on his shirt – sitting at the bar and talking with the only waitress – a middle-aged plump woman with curly peroxide blond hair. Ian sat one stool away from the man at the bar and ordered a coffee. They all looked at him weirdly, the three people present in this diner, probably not used to seeing strangers in their town. Ian waited for the waitress to come back with a mug and hot coffee for him before he questioned her, asking if she knew of a Mickey Milkovich living here.

 

“Milkovich?” she repeated. “No. But there's a Mickey who moved into town about three months ago, Michael Smith. Sweet boy. He allows me to call him Mikhailo, I'm the only one who can.”

 

She smiled, proud to have this special status, while Ian replayed the name in his head. _Michael Smith?_ _A sweet boy???_

 

“Not very tall, dark hair, blue eyes, knuckle tattoos?” Ian insisted, wanting to make sure he had found the right person.

 

“Yes.” the woman nodded. “He's such a nice boy. Are you his boyfriend?”

 

Ian almost spit his coffee. _Mickey was a sweet and nice boy? And he was out? What the hell?_

 

“Um...” he stuttered. “Not exactly. Do you know where I can find him?”

 

“He works at the auto shop.” the woman said. “But at this hour he's probably back home.”

 

“And home is... ?”

 

“Up by the lake, behind the church.”

 

This woman was giving up information way too easily for Mickey's safety, but Ian couldn't exactly complain. He thanked her, paid for his drink, and went back out to his car. It wasn't a hard task to find the church – or the lake for that matter – and he soon found about five houses that could be Mickey's. There were all small, classic, Midwestern houses, and Ian drove slowly past the mailboxes until he found the one labeled 'Smith'. He got out of the car and breathed slowly before walking up to the front door. He rang the bell and knocked on the door several times until he accepted the idea that nobody would answer. He walked around the house, trying to find a back door, or another entrance that could be open, when he noticed a thin trail going up to the lake. On instinct he decided to take it, and hiked for about two minutes before he arrived on a grassy beach and he saw him, sitting on the edge of a the short wooden jetty, smoking a cigarette. Ian approached slowly, and stopped a couple of feet away.

 

“Hi Mick.”

 


	11. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short and fluffy epilogue.
> 
> Sorry for the wait :/

 

The house wasn't too big, only two floors, four bedrooms, stone walls on the outside, and warm paint on the inside. There was a garden in the back, in which were growing aromatic herbs for cooking, not far from the swings for the kids. The window in the master bedroom overlooked Lake Michigan, and Ian used to pretend they could see Chicago on the other side of the huge pond of water, it made the kids laugh and Mickey roll his eyes.

 

The sun had been up for only a couple of hours and the morning dew wasn't dry yet, but Ian was already under the covers, expertly sucking his husband's dick – husband who had a hand tangled in the fiery red hair and didn't hold back his noises.

 

“Fuck Ian... Just like this... Fuck... Right here...”

 

Ever since Mickey was out, Mickey was loud. No more muffled noises in back alleys, no more quick fucks in the Kash and Grab. Mickey was loud, and Mickey took his sweet time. Ian usually loved it, but right now wasn't the best time. So he stopped, pushing the blanket back over his shoulders. Mickey went silent and glared at him with frowned eyebrows.

 

“Why'd you stop?”

 

Ian moved back up, coming out from under the blanket to be eye-in-eye with Mickey.

 

“You're too loud, you're gonna wake up the kids.”

 

“I'm not.” Mickey scoffed. “And I'm pretty sure they're already awake anyway.”

 

Ian's eyes widened in disbelief.

 

“That's even more fucked up!”

 

Mickey rolled his eyes, and let his head fall back on the pillow.

 

“Come on, if you work well, I'll be fast enough, they won't even realize what's happening.”

 

Ian raised his eyebrows playfully.

 

“Is that a challenge Milkovich?”

 

Mickey just smirked, and Ian shook his head, going back under the covers and resuming his task. He worked fast – as requested – and, only a couple of minutes later, Mickey was coming, Ian rewarding himself with a proud smile. The redhead crawled back up to kiss his husband on the lips and, just as Mickey was putting his boxers back on, the bedroom door burst open. Three very energetic kids, all under six years old, came running into the room, jumping on the bed, laughing and hugging whomever they could find. Mandy and Debbie had nicknamed them « Ian and Mickey's 'rainbow kids' » – partly for the gay pun, but also because they all had different skin colors and came from different parts of the world – and Ian wasn't too sure how he felt about them joking about his children. He kissed his eldest daughter on the cheek after she had hugged him, and looked above her head to find their scrawny teenager leaning against the door frame, arms crossed on his chest, an apologetic smile on his lips.

 

“I tried to hold them back as much as I could.” he explained. “But you know how they are, always too perky in the morning.”

 

“That's okay.” Ian smiled back, before motioning with his hand. “Come on Yev, come join us for a giant family hug!” he added with what Samira called his _'_ _big bear voice'_.

 

The teenager hesitated for two seconds before jumping on the bed himself to be a part of this moment. All six of them hugged and wrestled for some time, playful and happy together, before Ian found himself upside down on the bed, almost falling to the floor, Mickey's face only a couple of inches away from his.

 

“I wish I didn't have to go to work.” the redhead murmured, mostly for his husband's benefit.

 

“Don't go daddy!” Samira suddenly screamed, bouncing on his chest.

 

Ian grunted in pain as the girl sat more comfortably when she had just hurt him, hands pushed against his heart.

 

“I have to.” Ian said softly. “But I'll be back tonight for Yevgeny's game. And I'll buy ice cream, deal?”

 

“Yeah, ice cream!” the girl grinned brightly and got off his chest, leaving Ian to face Mickey alone again.

 

Mickey who was looking at Ian with the most tender eyes and loving smile.

 

“I'll miss you too.” he whispered.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave kudos and/or comments. And you can also come talk and share with me on my [tumblr](http://ilostmylifeonline.tumblr.com/), it's always appreciated. :)


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